


Sleigh bells ring (are you listening)

by wingedspirit



Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), M/M, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedspirit/pseuds/wingedspirit
Summary: Aziraphale has a long-standing wish; Crowley borrows a horse.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560823
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	Sleigh bells ring (are you listening)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [drawlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drawlight)’s [advent calendar prompt list](https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been) (day 6, sleigh bells).

There are distinct upsides to living the way they now do, in a remote, isolated cottage, as close to the middle of nowhere as is possible to get in Sussex. The large private grounds on which their cottage is located, with the addition of a handful of very pointed miracles to deter human curiosity, mean they have all the privacy they need, and then some. No nosy neighbours who might notice if they miracle something rather than doing it the human way, nobody to see when they let their wings out or spot them on the rare occasion they decide to go for a flight.

The downside of the large grounds, of course, is that they are miles from the nearest village, and public transport options are very limited. Normally, it’s not an issue; normally, Crowley can drive them both wherever they want to go. But today, Aziraphale went out alone to buy Christmas gifts; and what had been a pleasant, if lengthy, walk from the cottage to the nearest bus stop in the morning is a much less appealing prospect in reverse. It’s snowed again in the afternoon, heavily, so the lane to their cottage will be snow-covered and difficult to walk.

Oh, well. He’ll just miracle himself back to the cottage the moment he’s out of sight of any humans.

When he alights from the bus, though, Crowley is already there, sprawled on the bench near the bus stop with an air of deliberate casualness.

“‘Lo, angel. Done all your shopping? I can carry those for you,” Crowley says, levering himself up to a standing position and reaching for the bags Aziraphale is holding.

“Absolutely not,” Aziraphale says, clutching the bags to himself protectively as he starts walking away from the bus stop, Crowley following. “You’re just offering because you want to peek at the contents.”

Crowley’s face takes on an expression of wide-eyed innocence that Aziraphale knows for a fact is entirely artificial and extremely well-practiced. “Who, me? I would never. Honest demon, me.”

“Right, of course, you were just being chivalrous. So you won’t mind if I just…” They’ve turned onto their private grounds now, through a small copse of trees that Aziraphale knows shields them entirely from sight; so he feels perfectly comfortable in miracling the bags directly to the cottage, into a cupboard where he knows Crowley won’t look.

Predictably, Crowley grumbles. “You’re no fun.”

Aziraphale has a feeling he’s failing entirely at suppressing his smirk. “You’ll get to see your gifts when you unwrap them on Christmas, as we’ve agreed.”

“No fun,” Crowley reiterates; but he’s smiling.

Aziraphale hums. “What brings you here, anyway? You know you don’t need to walk me home.”

“Felt like it.” Crowley shrugs, all casual insouciance, the innocent expression returning to his face.

“You’re planning something.”

“Might be.” Crowley grins, bright and quick. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” Aziraphale asks; and then he stops stock-still, because waiting for them, around the next bend in the lane, is an old-fashioned, horse-driven sleigh.

Crowley smiles, taking off his glasses and pocketing them. “Lift home?”

Aziraphale stares, entranced. “You — how did you know?”

“You mentioned it once, a few decades ago. Uh. You were extremely drunk. Complained mournfully and at great length about how you never got to, and I quote, ‘have a romantic sleigh ride on a quiet winter night with the person you love’. That seemed like something I could help with, now.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathes, feeling himself blush. It’s true, of course — it’s been a long-standing wish of his, though he hadn’t remembered mentioning it. Trust Crowley to make a note of it. He’d always known, deep down, that Crowley loved him; but it was not until after the failed Apocalypse that he’d realised the depth of Crowley’s feelings, and exactly how much of an incurable romantic his demon truly is.

The sleigh is gleaming, lit only by a lantern hanging off the side of it, with that particular shine that tells him it was created by a miracle. The horse’s harness and bells are miracle-new, too; the horse, however, is solid and real — and familiar, which gives Aziraphale pause. “You didn’t steal the horse, did you?”

“No-oooooo. No.” Crowley squirms. “More like, uh, borrowed. He belongs to the farmer at the other end of the village.”

“Borrowed, really.” Aziraphale arches his eyebrows. “And the rightful owner is, of course, aware of this?”

“Nnnnn. Not _precisely_. Left a note, just in case he checks. Which he won’t. He’s not going to need ol’ Duke here —” Crowley pats the horse gently on the flank “— until tomorrow morning, I made sure of that. And I’ll get him back in his stable right after we get home.”

Yes, Crowley should’ve asked, really, not just taken the horse. And yes, the proper angelic thing to do would be to say so, and tell him to return the horse immediately, and then just walk home. And yet… “Safe and sound? Not any more tired than he was before?”

“Demon’s honour,” Crowley says, cheerfully. “C’mon, angel. You know you want to.”

Aziraphale smiles, and climbs into the sleigh. “Take me home, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can, as ever, be found on [Tumblr](https://wingedspirit.tumblr.com/).


End file.
